


Lantern Slides

by zacharybosch



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Like, SO SORRY, also i'm so sorry about the winston chapter, it dips in and out of the canon timeline and also post-TWOTL, really unsure how to tag this tbh, so i guess parts can count as an AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacharybosch/pseuds/zacharybosch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watching the dogs playing by the lake. A smile in a house in Baltimore. Paying a visit to the Primavera.</p>
<p>Snapshots from a life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> i took this idea from His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman. he wrote "lantern slides" for each book in the trilogy, additional short paragraphs or sometimes just a sentence that for whatever reason weren't included in the main text. some are like deleted scenes, some add an extra layer of depth to an existing scene or moment, and some are snippets of the characters' lives after the events of the books. they're all amazing. i cried.
> 
> anyway, the lantern slides are very dear to me (as is the trilogy itself. seriously, i have a tattoo. everyone should read these books) so i thought i'd write some hannibal-themed lantern slides! five to start with, all very short, hovering around 100 words each. i will update this as i think of more.

The spring thaw, and dogs playing down by the lakeshore. Will let himself melt with the snow, let Molly find her way in and allowed her residence in his heart. He watches her, sees her easy strides as she catches up with the dogs and is sprayed with icy lake water as reward, and thinks how good it is to be here in this simple life with her.

He still wakes each day with an early morning frost clenched around his mind, but that too will melt, has already begun melting, melts quicker with Molly there to warm him.

The sharp little rock in his gut is made of something other than ice. It won’t melt.


	2. II

It’s not a palace, just a house. But it has rooms enough for everyone. Walk down the hallways and open doors leading to long sultry summers and crawfish in the bayou, the way Molly looked in her wedding dress, introducing her to the dogs and the first time Walter said “Dad.”

Walk and see solitary nights and a smashed window in a house in Wolf Trap, rain and blood and a smashed window in a house in Baltimore, the rush of the sea and a smashed window in a house on a bluff.

Listen to the endless push and pull of waves against a cliff face. There are rooms enough for everyone.


	3. III

His face is cold and clammy, raindrops and sweat and if he’s perfectly honest, probably tears as well. But all that is burned away when Hannibal brings his hand up to cup his cheek, to stroke fingers over his ear and bore holes into him with his eyes.

This is it, he thinks. I’ve made my choice. Now we run.

And then, a sudden jerk, and a smile.


	4. IV

Winston, with his speckled fur that made him look constantly muddy. It took Will far too much scrubbing that first night to realise that Winston was already clean. 

Twelve years after their first skittish meeting on the road to Wolf Trap, Will laid Winston back down in the mud. He’d followed his master to the ends of the earth, but he was done running along roads now.

Hannibal unearthed a sketch he’d made some years prior of Winston sleeping by the fire, found a frame to fit it, and placed it silently on the mantelpiece with the others.


	5. V

Sitting silent in front of the Primavera, and realising just how much he had missed the sound of Hannibal’s breathing. It was good to hear it again. He would feel its loss more keenly this time.


	6. VI

The slow crackling of the fire; the rich, heady wine in his glass; the flurry of snowflakes pattering against the windowpanes. It was not solely one of these things, nor all of them together, that made Will stay that night, though he would reason to himself later that it was. They merely fit comfortably into the shape of the excuse that he was looking for.

Hannibal looked at him, knowing and silent, and held out his hand. Flickering flames reflected in pupils blown wide. His palm was warm, dry.


	7. VII

Feel the sting and pull of torn skin over shifting knuckles. 

Lean into his tender touch, just a little. Open your eyes for a fleeting second, catch his gaze, be soft. Curve your fingers to graze his skin when he lifts your hand to wrap it in gauze. Let the noise caught in your throat escape.

“Stay with me, Will.”

Don’t mind that it hurts. Reel him in. Ensnare him.

“Where else would I go?”

Don’t mind that it hurts.


End file.
